Motive
by Fogs of Gray
Summary: Everything Macon did had reasoning. SpOiLeRs for: Beautiful Creatures, and if you are a Holmes, Beautiful Darkness


I had to clean out a few of my stories, as no one reviewed...and I thought that they were just terrible stories. :p Oh well...turns out everyone's just shy.

Anyway! I couldn't stay away from everyone's favorite Incubus, so here we have a bit of explaining on his part. Possibly good? While thinking one day, I decided that everything that happened to him could be traced back to another event, and so on. :) Bleh. Sorry for the rambling. So...hope you enjoy? *nervous smile*

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine. :(

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He supposed that maybe, perhaps in some place of mind he rarely visited, his decisions could be seen as logical. The reasoning behind it all was almost timeless, and he congratulated himself on that.

He knew why he left that night. The overwhelming urge was boiling in his blood, coursing through his veins and he was powerless to stop it. He never wanted what his parents had for Jane. He had witnessed the futile struggle between his mother and...he hesitated on calling the man who raised him 'father'. That endeavor had never truly worked out all of its kinks, and in the end, it left Silas with two sons, one worthless and the other Dark, and his mother with a daughter. In the end, he was practically erased from Silas's mind. Years of beating could never be forgotten for Macon.

He blamed his drinking habit on that lack of stability. The alcohol numbed his mind, took the edge off of memories. The scotch was stocked in Ravenwood when he had taken, was given, the property. Deeper, he considered, he might have clung to the thought that he was like his father. Any relationship would never get further than a broken heart and calming words.

He chose not to have children after he left. Part of him knew that it would have been entirely possible to find a Caster and supply a proper Ravenwood heir for the family. Another part of him wondered if he could ever love a child that was not _hers_. That in the lack of a stable relationship he would never love mother nor child. His fear was rooted there, in the very concept that he could become what his father was.

He Bound himself to the Light three weeks after the Transformation to stop the thoughts. He was teetering on the edge of insanity when a memory of what Silas was stopped him. Many assumed the choice was on a futile attempt at seeing his Lila Jane. Over all, the decision was rushed and he hardly believed he would have it any other way.

He thought of it as a way of insurance. If anything were to happen...if he somehow lost his battles before that fateful day, he knew his niece would end the Ravenwood line forever. He took comfort in that thought, even knowing what was in store for an Incubus in the Otherworld. However, two hours before midnight, he felt the faint fluttering of regret fog his mind.

He prayed to whatever God was out there that Lena would not feel the chilled calm as he did. That she knew her Choice was the right one, and he never thought otherwise. For her to regret letting him go would only hurt him more. It was his way of insuring a slightly less painful death for himself. Delphine would certainly look after Lena when the time came. It comforted him to some extent.

He remembered when he chose his fate. The table was surrounded and yet no one sat. His hands were clinging to the edge as if it were the only thing keeping him standing. Delphine had asked the question on everyone's mind and the discussion had started. He didn't understand why they didn't see what he was seeing. Of course, she would have to choose the Light. There was no other way. He had voiced the thought and everything had grown still. The silence was deafening.

He took comfort in silence. It was less intrusive than a noise of any kind. He guessed that the liking for the lack of sound started at an early age, when listening to footsteps was a way to prepare for the night. It also occurred when he saw Jane that last time, when the Arclight was given to her. A beautiful nothing that spoke more volumes than not.

He enjoyed solitude more than silence. It ensured that he wouldn't hurt anyone. Countless nights he found himself barely standing, leaning against one of the bookshelves in his study, hands grappling for the crescent shaped key. The setting of the lock would echo in mind for a long while, until his instincts were back in control.

He told Lena he slept all day. He said he had too much to do, not enough time to let consciousness slip. He didn't acknowledge that every time his eyes closed he saw _her_. That he could only just stay sane with those barely there moments. That he immersed himself in work, in doing _something_, anything, because he couldn't bear to hear her voice. He knew what his breaking point was and he wasn't about to let himself shatter with his niece a few rooms away.

She only saw his rooms once. It was when she was quite little, and the consistent rain was beginning to wear her down. She ran into his dark sanctuary, throwing herself into his arms. He had barely emerged from the Tunnels when the lock gave way. Macon was tempted to push her away, set a simple Cast on her and tell her to go to bed. However, he couldn't. He gently cradled her, letting her arms tighten around him. He stood for what seemed like hours, until her cries had been muted to whimpers. He murmured a simple lullaby, one that his mother had recited to him many years ago, one of the few things he remembered. When her whimpers seized, he walked carefully to his bed, tucking her into the sheets. He then stepped back and waited, immersing himself in his thoughts.

She woke to find him in a chair in the corner of the room, cast off to the shadows. His eyes were closed, his mouth neutrally straight. For a moment, she nearly thought he had fallen asleep. His eyes opened at that moment, the darkness in them fleeing at the sight of his niece. He knew after that night that the uncertainty had fled his mind. He would give anything to keep that smile on her face.

Somewhere between the alcohol, pain and love, he found himself in a field of fire. His sister stood no more than fifteen feet away, persuading Lena to choose Dark over Light. The faint flutter of regret from two hours ago wrapped around him. He let the words slide easily from his lips. _Let me go._ A flicker of light flashed through her green eyes. He knew he was only one man. No matter how much anyone loved him. No matter his motives.

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Good? Bad? Neutral? Honestly, guys, I can't get any better unless you show me some love...or hate? I accept flames with open arms. :)


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